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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27265594">Toil and Trouble</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickSilverFox3/pseuds/QuickSilverFox3'>QuickSilverFox3</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, M/M, Runes, Slice of Life</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-07 02:09:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>997</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27265594</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/QuickSilverFox3/pseuds/QuickSilverFox3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"When you said that you had a late night mission for me," Kingsley began, voice soft but the undercurrent of amusement shone through, "this was not what I was expecting."</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Alastor "Mad-Eye" Moody/Kingsley Shacklebolt</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Toil and Trouble</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“When you said that you had a late night mission for me,” Kingsley began, voice soft but the undercurrent of amusement shone through, “this was not what I was expecting.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moody snorted, shaking his head at the other man. His head was bowed to the table, his human eye focused on the cigarette he was rolling with quick motions of his calloused fingers, while his magical eye scanned the floors above them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’ve been spending too much time with your nose in Tonk’s romance novels,” Moody said, tucking the rolled cigarette behind his ear. Kingsley only shrugged at that, prompting another snort of laughter from Moody.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kingsley hooked the cup of tea closer to him, taking a quick swig of the rapidly cooling liquid. He found, to his surprise, that he was longing for the days where late night missions meant a stakeout in whatever Muggle vehicle the Undercover division of the Auror Department could be persuaded to let go, stomachs filled with fish and chips from a Muggle shop with the bitterness of ink clinging to them and foul tasting coffee made palatable by the copious application of whiskey. Late night missions, as Moody was alluding to, smug look on his face like the cat that got into the pantry, could also mean the times deliberately constructed by them — paperwork passed between them with a deliberate brush of fingertips across the other’s palm — and generally wound up with both wearing a lot less clothes than they were currently wearing.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fuck.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Moody fumbled with the buckle for his magical eye — twitching in the socket but only the white remained visible — before pulling it free. “Damn bastard Death Eater.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can finish up the rest if you’d like,” Kingsley offered, twisting the circle of beaten metal round as his gaze traced the spread of purple beneath Moody’s empty socket. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m not dead yet,” Moody growled, picking up his own circle of metal and knocking it against the table. “Ready?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kingsley nodded, biting his tongue as his heart twisted in his chest, Nothing showed on his face as he pressed two fingers to the centre of the metal, studying the book carefully as he waited for Moody’s signal. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The book was old, pages yellowed and curling at the edges with some sections lost to blotted water damage. The pages that remained were a tangled mess of cramped handwriting in all colours from a rich fresh black to an almost illegible copper. It was resting propped up against a heavy vase, dropping flowers casting shadows over the thick brushstrokes of the runes drawn onto the page. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kingsley drew in a deep breath, feeling the magic buzz at his fingertips like trapped lightning, and traced the rune onto the metal. He couldn’t look at his motions, eyes tracing the curves of the drawn rune as sparks flew from the metal, white hot and biting into his skin and the table. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>His hands shook when they had finished, a wave of exhaustion washing over him, and his eyes slipped closed for a moment. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re not looking too good yourself,” Moody said, his voice as close to gentle as it would ever get, a low undercurrent. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Casting with runes always feels different to using a wand,” Kingsley explained, adding the amulet — buzzing with trapped power that set his teeth on edge, but would block all but the most dangerous of spells. His own amulet hung from his ear, a slight brush of gold leaf hiding the rune from all but the most prying eyes. It had been a gift from Moody, practical in a way all of his gifts were. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s a difference in energies,” Moody said, cracking his knuckles and grinning at Kinglsey’s reflexive twitch away. “The wand smooths them out, makes spells easier to cast, but it makes you reliant. And reliance makes you weak.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can many wizards cast with runes?” Kingsley picked up the next piece of metal for another amulet, flipping it across his fingers like a street magician, the product of a childhood spent mostly by himself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Almost none, so you’re something of a rarity.” Moody winked at Kingsley, a strange sight with his magical eye carefully spinning on the table, but one he was used to. “I do wonder if more knew, then would people still be here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Kingsley didn’t need to follow Moody’s gaze to see what he was staring at, distracting himself by flicking through the book of runes — runes for capturing images with three different hands creating an argument that spanned generations next to runes for curing hair loss — but his gaze was drawn to the framed photo on the wall. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The past Order of the Phoenix stared back at them, caught in the same four second loop with wide smiles, unaware that in only a few months half of them would be dead. Kingsley watched them as well, spotting his own younger self easily, towering head and shoulders above the others, Moody tucked in beside him, face intact but half turned away.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t pity the dead, pity the living,” Moody sighed, shaking his head. “They don’t get saddled with all this.” He jerked a thumb at the pile of amulets — a pile that they both knew would be depleted in moments in the war that was looming even as it exhausted them both to make them. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“One more?” Kingsley flicked the pages back to the defense runes, tracing a careful finger across Moody’s spidery handwriting — remembering when he had to struggle to read it in order to write up reports to Moody’s exacting standard — across the bottom of the page: Works. Use often.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This will save lives,” Moody sighed, picking up his magical eye and staring at it for a long time before carefully reattaching it, staring up at Kingsley with both of them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know,” Kingsley confirmed, tapping the rune before placing his fingers back on the circle of metal, drawing his magic up once again. “Save as many as possible, right?”</span>
</p>
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